


Scarred

by le_chat_vilain



Series: Scarred [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Angst, Crossover, Flashbacks, NSFW, PTSD, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-01 20:29:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5219744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/le_chat_vilain/pseuds/le_chat_vilain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story is based on the following part imagine: 'She hides her excellent blade fighting skills, because she’s seen enough battles and suffers emotionally. When getting ambushed, she has to scream for help because fear won’t allow to stand for herself.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bleed Black

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first part in a multi chapter that started from a massive imagine I was tasked with on tumblr. It kind of then took on this magic pudding thing and what was supposed to be about 4 chapters turned into 9. Each chapter is titled by the song that I feel captures the energy of that chapter/moment. 
> 
> Soundtrack for this chapter: Bleed Black by AFI.

_Breathe. Just breathe._

She was having another one of those nights. A night where sleep evaded her yet the spectres of her past did not. The pain felt as real as it did the day it all happened, the gnarled scar on her stomach burned with the agony of remembrance.

Five years had passed since she last lay a hand on a blade. When she had first stumbled into these lands, she had feigned ignorance in the ways of sword fighting, simply to avoid the memories. She spoke of her past to nobody, not even Thranduil, even though she ached to tell him, especially of late.

The nightmares had been growing more frequent, more vivid with each passing moon, as if they were sounding a warning to her. They had always been there, taunting her in her slumber, but now they stalked her in her waking hours too. Every time she heard steel meet with steel she remembered the day she lost everything.

The pain in her stomach.   
The stench of death and charred flesh on the air.   
The taste of copper in her mouth.   
The blood that coated her hands.   
The rage that led her to the overkill.  
The grief followed by the nothingness.   
The deafening silence as she stood the sole survivor.

She would not go through that again. The walls were closing in around her, her chest grew tight, the silence both haunting and deafening at the same time. She had to get out.

_Run. Just run._

She lost herself in the sound of blood pumping and her own heavy breathing. It was strange to the elves that she should run aimlessly in the woods but it was one of the very few things that calmed her. There were days when she feared coming to the end of her athletic ritual, for she would surely be catapulted back to reality.

A snapping sound to her right stopped her dead in her tracks, the hair on the back of her neck standing to attention. Legs bending into a slight crouch, her arms curled at her sides like an animal ready to pounce. Then she heard the sound of swords being drawn from their sheathes.

The pain. The stench. The taste. The blood.

As the small pack of orc bandits emerged from the trees around her, the panic began to set in. Though she lacked weapons she was not completely defenceless; her mastery of hand to hand combat was yet another trait she had been hiding, but her feet remained glued in place.

The ringing started first, a high pitch gnawing in her ears that drowned out the world. Then came the tension building in her chest, her breathing shallowing. Finally, there were the hallucinations.

The forest melted away and she was back there, fighting on the battlements. A warm spray of blood across her face, in her mouth, in her eyes. Her brother’s head floating through the air to land at her feet. The feeling of blades in her hands, slick, warm, and wet with the paint of carnage, and a carpet of bodies at her feet.

_Focus. Just focus. This is not real. You know it is not real. Focus, Ariadne._

Eyes closed, she took a deep breath. She knew that she was not back there: she was in Mirkwood. She knew that there were no weapons in her hands: they had been empty for years. She knew there was no blood: not yet.

Her eyes opened and she saw the orcs closing in, sniggering and snarling, ready to have their fun with her. Once again she tried to move but found herself still frozen in place. She may have made the illusion go away but the terror still had a hold of her.

_Scream. You have to scream._

The chances that Thranduil had someone follow her were high, and it was this that she relied on now. Letting out an ear splitting shriek, she dropped to her knees in the damp earth, placing all of her faith in his love for her.

***

He had pretended to be asleep when he felt her wake and leave the bed. This had been a regular occurrence in recent times, and it pained him greatly that she had not spoken of it to him. Once he was certain she had left the chamber, he dressed and followed her out into the woods.

It was so peculiar the way she just ran aimlessly around the place. She told him it gave her some kind of existential release but he could not understand how, and it was not for lack of trying. For someone so small she covered great distances with even greater speed. He trudged through the undergrowth after her, severely regretting choosing to go on foot instead of take his elk.

It was then he heard her scream.

Thankfully he was close, she could not be more than one-hundred feet away. Though he regretted that he was lacking his elk, he was relieved that he was not also lacking his weapons, having thought to grab them at the last minute.

“Ariadne!”

He did not remember the last time he had ran so fast, it could have even been millennia ago. Before long he reached the small clearing where she was on her knees, surrounded by orcs. Unarmed. Defenceless.

***

“Ariadne!”

It was not just a scout who shouted for her from the trees, he had followed her himself. The comfort of knowing he was near was fleeting when she heard the clang of swords once more.

“Ari!”

She had never seen him fight seriously before. He was vicious yet graceful, agile and strong. There was a beauty in his brutality unlike anything she had ever seen, and she found herself entranced.

“Ari, catch!”

The spell was broken as a silver sword floated through the air towards her. The blood began pumping in her ears again as hysteria tried to force its way into her consciousness once more. She recoiled at the blade and it dug into the ground beside her.

“What are you doing? Take it!”

Looking from his bewildered face to the sabre and back again, she could not hold back the tears as she vehemently shook her head. Thranduil’s disbelief turned to fury, but it was replaced quickly by fear as he barked at her a warning.

“Behind you!”

She tucked and rolled out of the way as the orc swung at her with a great war hammer. Adrenalin taking over, she rose to her feet in her pouncing position, and as he swung at her again she sprung into the air, landing on his back.

***

As he reefed his sword free from the skull of the dead creature at his feet, he wheeled around just in time to see Ariadne land crouched on the shoulders of the last of the orc filth. With one swift and clean motion, she twisted its neck, snapping it with her bare hands. She did not move as it fell to the ground, instead she stayed there, riding on its shoulders all the way down, sinking into a devastated heap immediately after. He had no idea she was capable of that.

After confirming all of their adversaries were indeed deceased, he raced over to her, pulling her into his arms as she sobbed. Her hands shook and she stared at them as if she could see something there that he could not.

“Shhh, you are safe now. It is over. Ari, are you alright?”

She did not answer. He dipped his head to try and catch her eye, and when he did it was as though she was looking right through him. It was a look he knew well, the look of someone scarred by a trauma so unspeakable that the dread it inspired was paralysing. Whatever it was, he intended to find out in good time, but right now he needed to get her back to the safety of their chambers. Bundling her in his cloak, he carried her back to the halls of the Great Greenwood.

Upon their return, he laid her sleeping form down in their bed, relieved to see that her episode appeared to have subsided for now. There was one thing that plagued his mind as he watched her sleep: how had she disposed of that orc so easily? Eventually sleep claimed him as well, but he could not shake the feeling that his beloved was not just the innocent young huntress he had found in the woods.

That fear in her eyes, the effortless way she had moved, that precision and strength; perhaps there was nothing innocent about her at all.


	2. Fix You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on this imagine: He (Thranduil) helps her through anxiety attacks and night terrors, and starts acting overprotective, guessing she will never be able to defend herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter turned out a bit differently to how I had originally planned it, and it ended up taking the whole story down a darker path. 
> 
> Soundtrack: Fix You by Coldplay

It had been months since the incident in the woods, and her anxiety attacks and night terrors grew worse with each night. Some nights she would wake multiple times, screaming, crying, shaking. Each time he would wrap his arms around her and hold her until she drifted off again. Convinced she was incapable of defending herself, he had instructed the guards not to let her go running at night anymore for he could not bear it if anything should happen to her. She still had not spoken to him of what it was that caused the demons to haunt her dreams, and while he had tried to be patient he could no longer sit idly by and watch her descend deeper into madness.

***

“Spare no lives.”

“What about the women and children?”

“I said, spare no lives.”

“Darius you cannot be serious?”

“I have never been more serious in my life.”

“No. I will not slaughter innocents.”

“Listen here, I hired you and your band of misfits to fight for me, follow my orders. You will do as I command you to or I will slay you where you stand.”

“You hired us under false pretences and are lucky I have not snuffed out your pathetic life while you have slept. Rightful heir to these lands my lily white arse, you are nothing but a common criminal. A murderer.”

“I prefer the term war lord, and don’t you think that’s a bit rich coming from the likes of you, sell sword?”

“I may be a thief, I may be a killer, and I may do it all for a price, but I have not, and will not ever take the life of a child. I would sooner die than stoop so low.”

“Suit yourself, sweetheart. Boys!”

 

The bodies were there, at her feet again. Smoke and flame billowing around her, that awful stench in the air. She found him hiding under a cart, the coward who had caused all of this. Several arrows in his chest, she dragged him out and ripped each one through his torso the way it came; the most painful way possible. He screamed and begged her to spare him, but the rage took over.

Cutting his armour from his body, she hauled him to the well in the centre of the courtyard and bound him to it, hands over his head and rope snaked around his wrists and neck so that escape would be impossible. Taking a small blade from her boot, she systematically removed several portions of skin from his chest and arms, rolling a particularly large piece into a ball and stuffing it in his mouth as he whimpered. When he passed out from the pain, she made sure he was still alive before leaving him for the infection or the crows, whichever came first.

When she turned around again to face the sight before her, she lowered her gaze to her hands; they were slick with blood, they reeked of copper and death. Something caught her eye below them, and she saw at her feet the body of a child, a boy no older than three, lifeless blue eyes staring up at her. She had been unable to save him. She had been unable to save any of them. All of this violence, all of this death and for what?

Nothing.

Her breathing quickened and a tightness grew in her chest. She tried to wipe the redness from her hands, but she was covered in it; she was just spreading it around. She could feel it congealing on her face and taste it in her mouth. A pounding started in her ears, her own heartbeat had grown deafening, accompanied only by a high pitch ringing that threatened to detonate the bomb in her mind.

She backed away from the pile of corpses, the dagger falling from her hand, landing with a thud in the dust. As though she were repulsed by them, she unbuckled the belts that held her swords and threw them on the ground next to it.

Then she ran, and never looked back.

***

Her muscles began to tense, her breathing grew shallower. It was happening again. Tears seeped from her eyes as she began to thrash in his arms. Then the screaming started. It had become such a regular occurrence that the guards no longer came rushing at the sound. Her amber eyes flew open, searching for him and filled with sheer terror, her hands gripping his shoulders and nails digging into him as he hugged her to his chest.

“I’m here. It is alright. You are alright.”

Her body slackened against his and she buried into him, body heaving with each sob. Night after night it was the same, and night after night he never asked her what was the cause of it; he had never been able to bring himself to. Tonight had to be different, he needed to know, he needed to help her. He tilted her chin up so that her eyes met his gaze. She appeared to have calmed down enough.

“Ari, are you ever going to tell me what you see, what causes all of this?”

Pain and longing took over her face, and she looked away from him, almost as if she were ashamed of something.

“I want to. I really do. I am just…terrified of what it might do. What you might do.”  
“Do to what?”  
“To us.”

What she meant by that he had no idea. What could it be that she would think it would threaten their relationship in some way? Had she betrayed him? Was she some kind of spy? He did not get much more time to ponder.

“Thranduil, I am not who you think I am, or more what you think I am.”  
“Let me guess, you are not just a simple huntress who lost her way in my woods?”  
“You knew?”  
“Well, I began to have my doubts when I saw you execute a fully grown orc with your bare hands. So, tell me your real story.”  
“I am…a mercenary, and a bloody good one.”  
“A sell sword?”  
“And a thief. If the coin was right then my brothers and I, our men, we would steal or fight for whoever was paying.”

It was hard to imagine her that way, riding into battle and commanding troops. Then he remembered what she did to that orc.

“The bottom line is, I have seen things. I have done things, terrible things that I am not proud of. One day we took the wrong man’s money and I was the only one who made it out alive. So I ran, but it seems no matter how far I run from my past it keeps catching up to me.”

“Everyone has their skeletons, Amaelamin.”

“But I lied to you…”

“You thought I would be angry? Ariadne, I understand that some things are simply too painful to live with. I understand wanting to take back ones actions, wishing that things had turned out differently. I could never be angry at you for simply trying to survive.”

He knew all too well what it was like to have seen battle; the devastation, the loss, the pain of war. He knew what it was like to have done things that brought with them so much regret to think of that it made him physically ill. If he had a chance to start again and pretend that those things had not happened, would he not have taken it too?

“I want to help you. These nightmares, I want to rid you of them. I care not for the past, but only for the future. A future where I can watch my wife sleep in peace when I cannot sleep myself, instead of waiting to catch you when you wake screaming.”

“So let me run again. Please, I need to run.”  
“You know I cannot do that. What if that happens again? You would be out there and defenceless.”  
“I think we both know that is not quite true.”  
“I think we both know given the way you froze last time, that it is.”

Her eyes were steel when she glared at him, shoving him in the chest and backing away to the other side of the bed. He had never seen her like this before, there was a fire in her eyes, a rage the likes of which he had seen very few times in his long existence.

“You have no idea what I am capable of! You know nothing about me! Nothing of where I’ve been, what I’ve done, and how I have paid for it!”

“And who’s fault is that! Do not blame me for knowing so little about you when you did everything in your power to hide!”

They were now standing either side of the bed, shouting and scowling at each other and ready to lock horns like two rams vying for dominance.

“I knew it! I knew you would not understand! Tell me Thranduil, have you ever looked into the eyes of a dead child, one who you failed to protect? Have you ever seen a baby’s head about to be dashed against a wall and known that no matter how fast you run, no matter how quick you can draw your bow that there is nothing, nothing you can do to save her? Have you watched her die in your nightmares over and over again, hearing the sound of her skull crack and her brain squash into the stone? I have killed, I have tortured, I have seen my own brother slaughtered before me, and no matter how hard I try to scrub this blood off my hands it just keeps getting thicker. I have seen war in all of her gruesome glory and this is the price I must pay.”

“I know more of war that you can possibly fathom! You do not get to speak to me of war, child!”

“Child? Child! I hope you did not think I was a child this morning when you were balls deep in me, bent over your desk with my arse in the air!”

That hurt, not only because he regretted calling her that the moment the word left his lips, but because she was right; he had never thought of her as a child, because she wasn’t one.  He looked away, chastised.

“Ari, I just want to help you. Let me help you.”

“Save it, Thranduil. I do not need your help. I do not need anyone’s help. I can deal with this on my own, the same way I always have. I do not need you, or your pity.”

She pulled on her hunting gear and turned for the door, not once able to look him in the eye. He knew that she must know he was right this time. Could he really let her go like this? Perhaps this was just her temper and she needed to be alone to cool off, then she would be back come tomorrow night and all would be well again; she would accept his help and he would be able to fix her. No, deep down in his heart he knew his time was different.

“You do need help, you cannot keep on like this, it’s madness!”

“I said, I don’t need your help! I am fine!”

It was almost so quick he didn’t see it, the small hunting knife flying through the air towards him. He dodged just in time and it narrowly missed his left shoulder, lodging itself in the bookcase behind him. If this was how far gone she was then maybe he could not help even if she would stay. Even still, there was something inside him that did not want to give up, he could not lose her, not to this evil.

“No, you are not! Please, Ariadne, do not do this. I need you.”

“Then that’s just too bad for you.”

Those glowing eyes drilled into his when she said it; she really believed she did not need him. It was so much worse than expected and he was, possibly for the first time ever, clearly out of his depth. It was then he knew it was too late. 

She was already gone.


	3. Going To Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the following part imagine: Later, he finds out how skilled she is after winning against his best solider in a duel and after giving him a hard time sparring with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I know this one is a bit shaky, because it’s a bit of a bridging story really. It’s setting up conversations that are going to be had in the next half of the story, and setting up Ari’s backstory. I was hoping to put more action in it but honestly it takes so long to write a fight blow for blow and it gets super boring after a while, so I made it more about the people.
> 
> Soundtrack: Going To Hell by The Pretty Reckless

_That sanctimonious prick! He thinks I can’t defend myself? I am my father’s daughter. I’ll show him._

She found herself standing in the armoury, studying all the exquisite elven weaponry; they really were master craftsmen. Reaching the rack of swords she paused, looking down at her hands and then back to the blades. If her father could see her now, what would he say?

He would call her a coward.  
He would call her weak.  
He would strike her down where she stood.  
And he would be right to do so.

It had never been easy being his favourite daughter. Of all of his children he had given her the most, but it had been both a blessing and a curse. The standards he held her to were nearly impossible, like he was daring her to fail, and yet she exceeded them at every turn. She was his greatest achievement, his pride and joy. He made her into everything he wanted her to be, the perfect weapon; she despised him for it. He never loved her like a father should, he only loved what she was capable of, the parts of himself that he saw in her. She hated how alike they were, almost as much as he hated their differences.

If she was being honest with herself, it had not been the horrors that had kept her running since that day, it was the fear of his wrath, of what he would do to her when he found out she had forsaken him. It was a fear that drove her so far that she had sought passage to another world. Somewhere deep inside her, a courage was born of anger, fear, and shame. She ran her fingers along the hilts of the weapons, flirting with the notion that she may be ready.

_Feed on the pain, child. Feed on the fear._

Her father’s words ringing in her ears, her hands closed around two slender steel blades. They were light, their balance perfect when she swung them. She remembered how good it felt to hold them, how energising it was, how it suddenly made her feel whole again. This was who she was, and she had missed this girl. Her father was right, fear and pain were sustenance, and she had been starving herself long enough.

She hated him even more when he was right.

****

Tauriel found her early that morning at the training field. She had not seen the queen with blades in her hands before, in fact, she had never even so much as hinted that she knew how to use one. She was a huntress, the bow was her weapon of choice, and yet the way the steel moved in her hands, the speed, the strength, the ferocity; it was inhuman. Yet another soldier was defeated at her hand within seconds.

“I did not know you knew how to wield a sword, let alone two.”

There was something in her eyes when she turned to face her, a spark that had not been there before, the light in them was lighter but the darkness was darker tenfold. She was alive, in a completely different way than she had been before, in a way that made everyone else around her feel more alive too.

“There is much you do not know about me, Tauriel.”  
“I am starting to see that. You are extremely skilled, where did you learn to fight like that? Forgive me for asking my lady, but I have never seen a human move quite like you do.”  
“My father taught me, and he is far from human.”

She had known from the moment she’d met her that she was not really of the race of men, there was something in those eyes, an energy that vibrated around her, her presence; never had she met a human who had such qualities. It was strange to hear her suspicions confirmed though, she had always had the impression that Ari was unaware of her uniqueness. It still did not tell her what the queen actually was. She was tall, graceful, and incredibly striking, but she was not Elvenkind. There was indeed nobody else like her in Middle Earth, so perhaps she was not from here at all.

“Well, human or not, he taught you well. Perhaps you will be the one to finally defeat Nehtar. He has been unbeaten in over five-hundred years by anyone other than our king.”  
“Until today.”

Cockiness. It was a strange look on her but she made it beautiful, infectious even. Tauriel summoned Nehtar just as she saw the elven king appear on the balcony overlooking the field. Catching his eye, she silently bid him to stay and watch what was about to unfold. The king and his wife had been acting very strangely today and she intended to find out why. As Ariadne and Nehtar took up their positions, she joined Thranduil in the viewing area.

“Have you seen her fight before, my lord?”  
“I have not. I did not even know she knew how to hold a sword until last night.”  
“Then you are in for quite a show. It is unlike anything I have ever seen.”

***

Tauriel was right: it was like nothing he had ever seen. Nehtar was his best soldier, and she had defeated him without so much as breaking a sweat. The blades had been like an extension of her arms, her feet quick and agile. Watching her fight was like watching a haunting and deadly dance. She fought almost like an elf, only not entirely. In any case, she certainly did not fight like any man. Her speed, her timing, her precision; there was nothing human about any of it.

“Tauriel, did she say who trained her?”  
“She said it was her father, my lord.”  
“Her father? She has never spoken of her father to me. What did she say of him?”  
“That he is not human.”  
“Is that all?”  
“I did not pry. From the venom in her tone I got the feeling it may be a sore subject.”

***

The slow clapping of a single pair of hands rang out over the training field, and she gazed up to the platform to see him standing there in all his glory. She was still uncontrollably angry with him, and there was only one way to settle it.

“Care to test your skill, my lord?”  
“What kind of husband would I be if I were to fight my wife?”  
“What kind of husband would you be to upset your wife any more than you already have?”

A half-hearted chuckle sounded out and he smirked down at her with a steely glint in his eyes.

“Suit yourself, Amaelamin.”

Moments later he was striding towards her, silver swords glinting in the sunlight and platinum hair flowing behind him. She didn’t know whether she wanted to kiss him or kill him.

“Ari, do we really need to do this?”  
“What’s the matter, my lord, are you afraid to lose?”  
“I think you are the one who is afraid.”  
“Less talk, more action.”  
“As you wish.”

He blocked her first blow with ease, and the next, and the next. He never once attacked her and it made her even angrier. She wanted him to fight her properly, to let his frustrations out on her the same way she was. She wanted him to feel what she was feeling, to know her rage and her pain.

“Stop holding back!”

She lunged at him again and this time he dodged her blade and countered, jamming the pommel of his sword into the small of her back sending her lurching forward. He was still holding back; if that was how he wanted to be, then fine. Quick as a flash she crouched on one leg and swung the other behind her, sweeping his feet out from underneath him and landing him on his backside in the dirt. Spinning around she crossed her blades in front of his neck, forcing him to lay on his back and raise his hands in surrender.

“You are still holding back!”  
“You tripped me!”  
“Yes, I did.”  
“That is not fair.”  
“I never said I fought fair. Like hitting me in the back is fair anyway.”  
“Are you going to let me get up?”  
“Are you going to admit you were wrong about me?”  
“Only if you give me the truth, the whole unedited truth.”  
“You don’t really want that.”

There was no way he would understand if he knew. Her history was so much more complicated than he could possibly comprehend. Where would she even begin? No, she would rather yield than explain herself right now. Withdrawing her swords, she sheathed them and began to stride away towards the woods.

“Ari, where are you going?”  
“Running.”

A strong hand gripped her wrist and pulled her around to face him, confusion and hurt in his blue eyes as they searched hers.

“I love you. Nothing you can tell me will change that. I care not where you come from, who your family are, or what you’ve done in the past. None of that matters to me. I was wrong to doubt you, very wrong. Now please, tell me.”  
“Let me go.”

Yanking her arm from his grasp she turned and kept on her path. This time he did not follow her. As she reached the tree line she heard him call.

“What are you so afraid of, Ariadne?”

_Nothing…and everything._


	4. Lay Me Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil tries to come to terms with being powerless to help Ari.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally this wasn’t a planned part of the story so there is no imagine for this one, but I felt it necessary to show how he was feeling and reacting to all of this. He’s scared, he’s sad, he’s angry, he’s confused. He’s just a bit of a hot mess really, because he hasn’t been powerless like this in a long time. It’s short but it’s more of a bridging part than a proper chapter I guess.
> 
> Soundtrack: Lay Me Down by Sam Smith ft. John Legend

It had been a week since she stormed out.   
A week since her side of the bed had been empty.   
A week since she had picked up a sword again.   
A week since he’d last felt whole.

She had been training with the soldiers non-stop. Tauriel reported to him on her every day, and judging by those reports, Ari was growing more and more unstable. She would train late into the evening, refuse to eat or sleep, go from scarily aggressive to apathetic and sloppy in the blink of an eye. Tauriel feared that Ari would break any day now, and they both held concerns for what such a break would result in.

If she would only talk to him properly, perhaps he could find out what was wrong, perhaps he could help her. Instead she refused to even speak his name, referring to him like she were one of the common folk, like they were complete strangers.

He had never felt so alone. Each day the world simply passed him by, he could have agreed to go to war with someone for all he knew, he had not been paying attention to anything except her. All he wanted was to know she was alright, or at least that she was going to be, but all signs were pointing in the negative.

Above all else he missed her. Rolling on his side, he reached across the bed and grabbed her pillow, hugging it to his chest. Inhaling deeply, he let himself get lost in the scent of her perfume; for a second it was almost as though she was there. He would give all the gold in Erebor right now just to be with her, even if it was in silence, even if she was screaming at him, anything would be better than this loneliness. Anything to be with her.

He had never felt so powerless. His heart hurt when he tried to imagine what she must be feeling. Her fear, her sadness, her anger, her isolation. Thinking of her struggling through her nightmares alone was almost enough to bring him to tears. He wanted to help her but he had no idea how, and it frustrated him to the point of fury. He was angry at her for it, for being so stubborn and so closed off. How was he supposed to help her if she refused to tell him what the real problem was? Sensing himself growing increasingly agitated, he threw the pillow across the room and got to his feet. Taking a leaf from her book, he had been trying to work through his emotions physically, and each night had found himself wandering to their special place under the stars.

Admittedly, he knew why he always ended up here: he was hoping she would be here too. As he gazed around the vast cavern, the moonlight shining down on the great tree at its heart, he realized that it just did not look as beautiful without her. The stars did not twinkle as brightly, the moonlight did not sparkle on the water of the pond as brilliantly. The air was somehow stale and the melody of the insects was sorrowful, as if they knew what he was feeling in his heart. He took a seat on the stone bench, in the same place he had done for the past six nights, his head falling to rest in his hands, staring at his bare feet.

He had to believe that she would come back to him, that this was something they would be able to fix, that he could fix her as she had once done him. The alternative was simply unconscionable right now. The elven king feared very little in this world, but losing her, in any way, was a notion that terrified him. She had given him life again, she had made him a better man, a better king, a better father to Legolas. What if he could not keep being than man without her? What if he did not want to be?

What was it that she was so afraid of? Was she afraid of him seeing her vulnerable? Was it something to do with this mysterious and inhuman father of hers? Was she afraid that if she told him about her past that he would somehow no longer want her? Did she think he could not love this side of her, that he would reject her for some reason?

Clouds blocked out the moon and plunged the cavern into darkness, the only light available to him provided by the glowing fireflies. Unable to stand the way the space suddenly reflected his mood far too well, he began walking quite autonomously in the direction of the training field.

Ominously, thunder began to rumble overhead as he reached the clearing. It was almost enough to drown out the sound of steel punishing wood. A twig snapped loudly under his foot, and the silence that followed was deafening.

He cautiously raised his head, and staring out across the vast expanse, he saw two golden, bloodshot eyes staring right back.


	5. Since I've Been Lovin' You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is NSFW and contains smut. Based on the final part of the original imagine, which was: It all could be ending in a chapter with the imagine of her referring to him as her king and him demanding “We are equal, and my name is Thranduil. Now, say my name with all the passion and pride you have for me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, the good old cliche of make-up sex, isn’t it wonderful? So our lovers are back together but she’s just dropped a pretty big bomb on him, any guesses as to why she might be immortal? And before anyone even goes there, no, she’s not a vampire. She’s so much more special than that.
> 
> Soundtrack: Since I've Been Lovin' You by Led Zeppelin

They stood staring at each other for a moment, all was silent with the exception of the thunder rolling above them. The air was still, lightning flashing in the distance.

He was the first to make a move, and she instinctively raised her blade to him as he approached, yet it did nothing to deter him. He knew she would never use it on him, even in this state. When she saw he wasn’t backing down, her wrist slackened and she shakily lowered the blade, dropping it in the dirt at her feet in a puff of dust.  

“My lord, don’t. Just…don’t.”

“Why do you keep doing that, Ari? Will you please talk to me? What is going on?”

The anguish on her face was more than he could bear. Her lip began to tremble and she looked away, off into the woods surrounding them. He approached her again but this time she held her hand up, pushing him away. When she faced him her eyes were full of tears and all he could feel rolling off her was pain.

“No. Please, just stop. I…I’m not worthy…”

“Not worthy of what?”

“You.”

“And you get to decide that do you? Ariadne, tell me what this is all about, why will you not even speak my name?”

“I lied to you. I hid things from you…”

“If you want to split hairs, you still are.”

“Oh and that’s the way to get me to open up!”

“Will you please just tell me then! What are you so afraid of?”

Before he realized it he was right in front of her, shouting at her. He was so frustrated with her, so worried about her, so terrified that he might not be able to fix her; he could feel the dread stirring in his gut and he hated that she had this effect on him. She glared up at him in defiance, all traces of weakness gone; coal turned to a diamond in the blink of an eye. This was not the way to get what he wanted, and yet it felt like he had no other choice. The thunder was growing louder and he could smell the rain approaching on the wind as it began to whip around them.

“What am I so afraid of? You really want to know,  _your majesty_?”

“No, I just thought I might ask you for my sheer entertainment!”

“I am afraid that when I tell you the truth, you won’t love me anymore, you phenomenal arse! How’s that for entertainment?”

She really thought that there was anything in this world that she could tell him that would kill his love for her? He was completely taken aback, unable to do anything but regard her with absolute bewilderment. Part of him was still concerned, scared even of what information could possibly make her feel that way, another was hurt that she thought his love so fickle. The rest of him was both impressed and infuriated that she had called him an arse.

“You really think I could ever stop loving you? Even if I wanted to? You think my heart is that easily dissuaded?”

“You haven’t heard what I have to say yet.”

“It does not matter. There is nothing you could say to me that would shock me that much, nothing that would disturb me. There is nothing in this world that could ever extinguish the love I bear you. I could hate you and still love you. Whatever it is you have to tell me you can do it now, you can do it a decade from now, I do not care because it will not change anything. Right now all I want to hear is you say my name again. You are my wife, we are equals. Right now, it feels like you are the one who no longer loves me.”

“It’s not that, believe me.”

“Then say it.” The rain arrived at that moment, heavy and cool. They stayed put, letting it soak them to the skin. He closed the remaining distance between them, and stared down at her like she was his last meal.

“My name is Thranduil, in case you have forgotten. Now say it, Ariadne. Say it like you mean it.”

“I love you, Thranduil.” It was but a whisper yet the intensity was still there; she did still love him. Still he pressed her further.

“I think you can do better than that. Where is the passion? Do not tell me you have lost it.”

“You think I lack passion for you?”

“Care to prove me wrong?”

She reached up and grabbed the tendrils of wet hair that hung either side of his face and tugged him down until their lips met. Once she had him in her trap, she tore open his soaked shirt and yanked it off, throwing it into the bushes. Her hands slid up to hold his face, locking him into the relentless kiss. He had missed her touch so much more than he had realized, and when she looped her arms around his neck, he instinctively lifted her. His hands found their way to her backside and her legs wrapped around his hips as their kiss grew ever deeper.

The storm raged on around them as he dropped to his knees and laid her down in the mud. Somewhere inside he knew they should really talk about everything that had happened before this, but she had this way of making him cast better judgment into the wind; he quite literally could not help himself. He had missed her, had felt lost without her. He wanted her, and he meant what he said.

The weather had made clothing removal infinitely more difficult, and the lacings on her leather pants were putting up quite a fight. Finally breaking their kiss, he reached for the blade she had discarded earlier, and used it to relieve her of her boots and trousers. Digging the dagger into the earth beside them, he let her draw him back down into another urgent kiss. With effortless speed and surprising strength, she grasped his arm and snaked her leg around his, rolling him onto his back, and pinning his hands either side of his head.

She kissed him forcefully and briefly before sitting back on his hips and arching her back as she peeled off her tunic, pressing her arse against his arousal. The sight of the rain running down her body, dripping from her slightly parted lips, her skin glistening wet when the lightning flashed around them; she could be part dwarf for all he cared right now, she was perfection. He slipped a hand into her saturated hair, and pulled her down to kiss her again.

Moving her hand to his throat, she broke the kiss and turned his head with a flick of her thumb, running her tongue along his jawline before moving to nibble on his ear. She continued to nip, lick, kiss, and suck her way down his torso, her hands trailing after her, stopping to suddenly pinch and twist his nipples, and he growled at her.

“Please, you love it.”

He felt her lips brush against the skin just above his pants when she spoke and it sent a shiver through him. She raked her fingernails down his stomach, scratching him with just enough pressure so as not to break the skin. Then he felt the coolness of the blade as she slipped it inside the waistband, twisting it up and puncturing the fabric, cutting through the linen like butter. He winced as she flicked the blade up, nicking the skin on his hip bone. Discarding the dagger and tearing the fabric away, she gazed at the small wound, and pouted at him.

Peppering gentle kisses across his stomach, she pressed her lips against the cut, blood smearing all over them, colouring them red. Then he felt her tongue glide over the split before her mouth closed around it and she began to suck. It hurt, but it was an exquisite kind of pain that made him groan and twist underneath her. He could taste the copper of the blood when she kissed him, it was strange and intoxicating.

Biting his lip gingerly as she pulled away, she slowly sat back and guided him into her inch by inch, a wanton sigh on her lips once he’d filled her. She didn’t take her eyes off him as she began to rock her hips against him, her pace nothing short of torture. He raised his hips to meet her and as they settled into a rhythm, she rested her palms on his chest, pushing off him as she rocked faster and faster.

He marveled at her breasts, slick with rain as they bounced with each thrust, those half-lidded amber eyes staring right into his, lips parted while she panted and moaned. When she began to dig her fingernails into his skin he knew she was close. Her grip grew so strong that they pierced his skin, blood tinting the little rivers of rainwater rolling down his sides. He could feel himself building when her muscles tightened around him and she threw her head back, nails digging deeper again as she came. She ducked her head down and once again sucked the blood from his wounds, as she shuddered with the aftershocks. Tipped over the edge by the sweet pain, he came undone beneath her, his release so intense that had she been looking, she would have seen the scars ripple across his face.

He enveloped her in his arms and she rested her head on his chest, tongue lazily licking his wounds causing him to shiver each time. The rain began to ease up as the rolling thunder grew quieter.

“How was that for passion, Thranduil?”

“I am sorry I doubted you. Have I ever told you how much I love the way you say my name?”

“You have now. Listen, I need to tell you something, well a lot of things actually, not all of it right now, but there is one thing that you ought to probably know…”

“So tell me then, I love you, nothing can change that. You are stuck with me for the rest of your days now.”

“Funny you should mention that…”

He looked down at her with a mixture of amusement and confusion that quickly turned to distress; was she dying?

“Why? Are you ill? I can help you, we can-”

“Thranduil, I am not ill. Far from it actually…”

She lifted herself up so she was looking down into his eyes once more, and he could see the struggle on her face as she plucked up the courage to tell him whatever this news was. He could feel her fear though she was doing her best to hide it.

“You…you’re not the only immortal one in this relationship.”

“What?”


	6. The Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ari opens up to Thranduil about her identity and her past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where things get interesting. At some point I decided to make this a weird crossover with Greek mythology, don't ask why. 
> 
> Soundtrack: The Story by Thirty Seconds To Mars

“So, begin at the beginning.”

She looked at him lounging on the loveseat eyeing her expectantly, glass of wine in hand as usual. He was so calm, he had no idea of the depth of her charade. Where even was the beginning? Should she start with where she came from? Or who her parents are? How does she even begin to explain to him what she is? Eyeing him apprehensively, she caught herself wringing her fingers and fiddling with her rings, a nervous tick that she had never been able to shake. She took a deep breath and a running leap in her mind.

“Alright, well, as you know already, I am not from Middle Earth, and I am not exactly human.”

“If you are not from this realm then where?”

“I come from a place inhabited by immortals so powerful that quite frankly some of them would make Sauron shit himself.”

He raised his brows at her in disbelief, and a smirk graced his lips, surely at the way she had so flippantly used a curse word without thinking. She really had been reigning in her language since being here but now the cat was out of the bag, she didn’t see much point in continuing.

“Well, by all means, ease me into it. Alright, so how did you come to be in Middle Earth then?”

“There is only one who can travel with freedom between our plain, the underworld, and the mortal plain. Even with his abilities, it was a great effort for him to get me so far away, and he risked his life doing so. He surely angered my father and that is something that very few people in our world would ever risk, let alone do knowingly. For all I know he may be dead.”

Heaviness descended upon her heart as she thought of the consequences that Hermes surely bought on himself. She hoped only that his speed and usefulness may have spared his life.

“Your father sounds like a rather nasty piece of work. If you are all immortal, then how is it that you fear your friend may have been killed?”

Pausing before him, she focused her golden eyes on his and clenched her jaw. This was it, she had to tell him what she was. Would he even understand the concept? Did they even have an equivalent race here in Middle Earth?

“Because to kill a god, you have to be one.”

“A god?”

“A god.”

“As in a deity?”

“Yes. Hence, immortality. Well, unless one of my kin decides to do me in that is. There is always a catch, as you know.”

She tried to hide her amusement at the way he was gawking at her. It wasn’t often that one got to see the great Thranduil speechless. For the first time possibly ever, the Elven king had to be snapped out of it.

“Thranduil?”

“Yes, sorry, funnily enough it is not every day that a man learns his wife is an actual, factual goddess. Apparently it is quite the revelation. So, you came here to escape death then?”

“After a fashion I suppose. I came to escape my father.”

Back to dear old dad again. The smile drained from her face and her expression became serious once more as she thought of the demon who contributed to giving her life.

“What is it that makes him so terrifying? When you speak of him, you go on guard, like he could appear at any moment. He must be quite formidable.”

She snorted at the understatement. How to begin to describe her father. Tyrant? Sadist? Psychopath? When she thought of him she felt her skin crawl, her stomach churn, and her blood boil. It was always such a surreal and unwelcome feeling.

“Formidable? You could say that I suppose. My father is…well he’s a raging sociopath for one thing. His name is Ares and he is the god of war, bloodshed, and violence. What’s more he does not take well be being slighted. He is cruel, and arrogant, and brash, and his tongue is pure silver; you have never heard honeyed words like the bullshit he spews. Above all else though, he is insatiable; tenacious beyond belief. If he finds a way here and I cannot defeat him, he will tear Middle Earth apart for the sheer fun of it. I stand a chance if he comes alone, but if he brings my brothers…”

“I thought your brothers were dead?”

“I have a lot of siblings, Thranduil. It’s quite normal where I’m from. Olympus is a place of great decadence and even greater depravity. Daddy dearest never could keep it in his pants. It was my half brothers that I lost, the resulting offspring of several of his dalliances with mortals.”

“Charming. These other brothers, the surviving ones, they are like you?”

“Yes, the gods of terror, and fear respectively. They are as thick as thieves and just as nefarious as our father, possibly even more so.”

“What are you the goddess of?”

“Revolt, retribution, and the balance between good and evil. Father never liked to focus too much on that last part. I have the most equal balance between him and mother of all their children and he hates it. Perhaps that is why he put so much more time and effort into me than any of the others.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I think the parts of him that you did inherit are clearly the best parts. You fight like nothing I have ever seen before. It is nothing short of mesmerising.”

“It’s not for lack of effort. He made me train for centuries. The second I showed an aptitude for war he stole me away from her, kept me from her until he had raised his perfect little weapon.”

She felt the tears pricking at the edges of her vision, she remembered every second of it. Thousands of years had passed but it was clear in her mind like it was yesterday. Ares had ripped her from her mother’s arms, kicking and screaming; a child barely eight years of age. The last thing she remembered was his hand striking mother’s face, and her lying there on the ground unmoving.

“Ari, are you alright?”

No, she was not. She had not seen her mother since that day, Ares had made sure of it. Mother never deserved that kind of treatment, her only crime was hopelessly loving a man who was incapable of loving her in return.

“My mother is kind, and joyful, and fun. Beautiful too. Her laugh is like music and her smile makes the stars look dull in comparison. I miss her so much. You bring out the parts of her that are inside me, the parts that I thought for so long weren’t there. The ones I thought he had killed.”

“Your mother is benevolent?”

“Very. She is the goddess of beauty, love, desire…pleasure…the best things in life. Aphrodite. Her capacity to love and forgive is so great that she still loves my father, even after everything he has done.”

“Well that certainly explains a few of your talents then, not to mention…”

Thranduil eyed her slowly from head to toe with a cheeky smirk on his lips. She blushed under his scrutiny. He extended a hand to her and she took it, letting him pull her into his lap.

“You’re taking all of this awfully well.”

“As I told you, none of it changes how I feel. Though I do wonder what it was that you did that could have made the god of war so angry that you felt the need to flee to another realm.”

“It’s quite simple actually. I denied him tribute. Perhaps it would not be such a heinous crime in his eyes were it anyone else, but me, his proclaimed favourite progeny? That makes it the ultimate betrayal. I just…couldn’t do it anymore. So much death, and for what reason, just for his entertainment? Children were being slaughtered…babies! And I…I…”

She reached out, grabbing the wine from Thranduil’s hand and knocking back the remainder of the glass, staring at the ceiling in a futile attempt to ward off the inevitable tears. She felt his hand on her back, stroking her soothingly as he kissed her temple softly.

“So I fled. I ran to Hermes and with Hephaestus’ help we were able to craft a pair of enchanted sandals that would allow me to leave our world. I shudder to think what Ares has done to them both in his rage.”

Thranduil’s back stiffened, and when she looked he was staring into space with a concerned look on his face, deep in contemplation. It made her uneasy to see him like that, he looked like he’d had some kind of disastrous revelation.

“Thranduil, what is it?”

“I do not mean to alarm you, Amaelamin, but if I was your father, and I wanted to find out where you had gone with a view to follow, I most certainly would not kill the men who helped you. Not until they had helped me find you and my revenge had been exacted.”

She felt the colour draining from her face as she realized the truth to his words; that is exactly the action Ares would take. She herself had just described the man as ‘tenacious beyond belief’, she was a fool to forget that he would stop at nothing to find her.

“But even if he did have a way to get here, how would he know where here…”

Her whole body shuddered and she turned her head slowly to face him, if she could breathe right now she would vomit.

“The nightmares. He sent them. That’s why they started again after so long. He knows where I am.”

“How is that even possible?”

“Morpheus, our god of dreams. I am so fucking stupid! How did I not see it? If he knows where I am, and has forced Hermes and Hephaestus into servitude, then we have a big problem.”

How could she ever have been so foolish? Her ignorance had now very well bought an invincible, bloodthirsty, and pissed off warlord to this land, putting hundreds of thousands of lives at risk. The people of Middle Earth could fight all they wanted, but at the end of the day she was the only one here who could put an end to him. Part of her hoped he would send Nemesis, but deep down she knew he would want to do this himself. She also knew that she would have to kill him; those sandals are a one use only deal.

For all the evils and abuses Ares had inflicted on her, the thought actually broke her heart. He was her father, and underneath all that hate, against all better judgment, and much to her own chagrin, she still loved him. What if she couldn’t do it? What if she simply crumbled in his presence and crawled back to him, begging her way back into his good graces by any means possible? A knock on the door shook her from her reverie.

“My lady, there is a man at the gates, he claims to be here to see you.”

She looked at Tauriel and a familiar ringing started to sound in her ears, and she squeezed the stem of the glass in her hand so tightly that it cracked. Her voice was barely audible when she spoke.

“What does he look like, Tauriel?”

“Well, to be frank, he looks…rather like you.”


	7. Seven Nation Army

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ari and Thranduil prepare to do battle with the God of War.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, that's where this chapter ends. I'll say no more of it because spoilers, sweetie.
> 
> Soundtrack: Seven Nation Army by The White Stripes

Her hands began to shake as the adrenalin surged through her veins, numbness setting in. The world around her becoming a blur, the ringing deafening. She turned to Thranduil, his face was like stone, lips pursed and brows furrowed.

“I am coming with you.”  
“Thranduil, no! Absolutely not I am not bringing you into this! It’s too dangerous!”  
“When will you understand that I do not care!”  
“When will you understand that it’s because I care so much!”

They stood staring each other down, both knowing the other had a point but neither willing to admit it. Without warning, he pulled her into his arms, planting a lingering kiss on top of her head. She melted in his embrace, torn between wanting him by her side to fight, and wanting him as far away as possible so that he would be safe.

“We are one. We do this together.”

She looked up into his eyes and for the first time could see fear behind the determination.

“You have no idea what you’re walking into.”  
“Again, confusing me with someone who cares.”

Pushing him away, she could scarcely believe the level of stubbornness he was giving her right now. This was not your average throw down. This was gods, and monsters, and nothing he had ever seen. If he followed her into this fight and came out alive he would start looking back on the days of dragons with fondness and a smile.

“For fuck’s sake don’t you understand? If I bring you with me I am taking my biggest weakness and practically handing it to him! That is not a winning strategy!”

“Oh and I suppose taking him on alone is?”

“You are out of your depth, Thranduil!”

“Then I will learn to swim.”

Her hand flinched as she resisted the reaction to slap him. Why couldn’t he see reason? It would be madness to have him there, not only in the event that Ares were to attack him, but also there was the distinct and undeniable possibility that she would be unable to summon the courage to stand against her father. What if she saw him and fell apart? If he forced her to turn on Thranduil?

***

“Ari, I know it’s a risk, but if you are defeated…that is not a world I wish to live in anyway.”

He knew she was right. He had no way of knowing the danger that was waiting at his gates, but if everything she had told him about her father was true, he could not let her face him alone. She walked towards him and took his face in her hands, regarding him with the most tragic expression he had ever seen on her; pain, love, fear, and sadness all rolled into one.

“You brilliant, beautiful fool. How ever did I earn the right to be loved the way you love me?”

“Who ever said love needed to be earned?”

A glint appeared in her eyes, and he felt her pull out of her moment of vulnerability. Something in his words had fortified her resolve, and he had a feeling he knew who lied to her about the nature of affection.

“The monster we are about to put an end to did. Are you ready to meet my maker?”

“Let’s go and kill a god.”

***

They walked to the armory in silence. They had to win this battle, failure to do so was not an option with all there was at stake. She helped lace him into his armor and she hoped it was as effective as it was beautiful.

There was no armor here that belonged to her, none that she was accustomed to fighting in, she had no idea what had become of her original armor, the armor she had been found wandering the forest in. That was until Tauriel tapped her on the shoulder and gestured toward a large wooden chest in the very back corner of the room. Opening it, she saw that the she-elf had kept it for her after all. Thranduil’s face filled with alarm when he saw her pulling on the light leather cuirass.

“What are you doing? You cannot face him wearing that! You may as well be naked!”

“Darling, trust me when I say I know what I am doing. I’m not used to fighting in heavy armor, it would slow me down and leave me vulnerable, and believe me when I say I will need my speed.”

“If you say so. I trust you, just promise me you’ll-”

“Be careful. I know.”

“Tauriel, send word to our kin in the west. I daresay we will be in need of our Lord Elrond and Lady Galadriel’s assistance.”

They chose their weapons and made towards the great doors. Ari could feel her heartbeat in her throat and try as she might, she could not ignore the fact that they may very well be walking to their deaths.

“Thranduil, wait.”

“What is it?”

“Before we open those doors you need to know two things. One, my father is a god, and that means he has godly abilities one of which is the ability to create projections of himself and use them to jump instantly from one place to another. If he is going to do it, you will feel the air change, and once you do you have to move immediately if you stand a chance. Two, he has a human form, and his true form. When you see horns starting to appear you have to run, promise me this?”

“I promise, but let’s hope it does not come to that.”

“False hope will get you nowhere, my love.”

With a deep breath, she placed her hands on the heavy oak doors and pushed.

***

They stepped out onto the bridge and there he was, the man that served as the catalyst for all of Ari’s misery. Tauriel had not been mistaken, the family resemblance was clear; the same amber eyes, the same wavy black hair, and most unnervingly, the same smile. The god of war stood there, one hand holding the opposite wrist lazily in front of him, clad head to toe in black reptilian leather. Thranduil could see a series of intricate tattoos winding their way around Ares’ arms, not dissimilar to the ones his daughter had - though far more extensive. This must be why she always changed the subject when he bought them up.

“There she is, my favourite darling daughter.”

The words sent a chill up Thranduil’s spine. Though he had a charming smile on his face, the words reeked of malice, and he could sense the evil rolling off the man in waves. Ari was right, he was in over his head.

***

“What do you want, Ares?”

Just the sound of his voice made her sick. She would humour him, engage him in this passive aggressive dance he insisted on doing, even though they both knew it would come to blows.

“As the mortals say, I was just in the neighbourhood. Who’s your friend, dear?”

“You leave him out of this.”

A sinister snicker rang out across the canyon and she saw it, that gleam in his eyes, the cockiness that came only with the power of knowing someone’s weakness.

“I see, more than a just friend then. I am surprised you bought him here. It’s ballsy, I admire that, but I did think I taught you better, Adrestia.”

Ari suddenly realized she had neglected to tell Thranduil of her alias. Ares clearly picked up on the elf’s confusion and seized the opportunity.

“Oh, that is perfect. Didn’t she tell you? What a strong foundation of trust your relationship must have.”

“Don’t listen to him, Thranduil, he is trying to turn us against each other. Adrestia is just the name I am known by on Olympus and to the mortals. I forgot to tell you because it means nothing to me.”

She never took her eyes off her father’s as she said the words. He had given her that accursed name. She would never go by it again.

“Ouch, you wound me, daughter! I gave you that name out of love and you cast it aside so easily.”

His words dripped with sarcasm as he placed his hand on his chest feigning pain.

“Love? As if you are capable.”  
“As if you are worthy.”  
“As if love is a privilege and not a right.”

Ares turned his gaze on Thranduil, raising an eyebrow at the Elven king. Ari’s heart began to thump in her chest like it was trying to escape. Thranduil sounded cool, calm, and collected, but she knew underneath the façade he must be seething.

“It speaks! And here I thought he was just a pretty face. Ooh, and an old soul, is that…immortality I can taste?”

She sensed the energy in the air change and she stepped in front of Thranduil protectively just as Ares flashed forward using one of his projections. They now stood a mere meter apart, and she was the only thing between the two men.

“Don’t you dare!”

“Well, look at you, showing off to your boyfriend and standing up to daddy. That’s my bravery flowing through your veins, child, can you feel it?”

His eyes drilled into hers and he smirked as he saw how the thought disturbed her. He flitted them away to steal a peek at the ancient king. It was almost so quick that had she blinked she would have missed it.

“Unfortunately, you have your mother’s foolish heart.”  
“I said leave him out of this.”  
“Now why would I do that…”

The air charged again, and her heart fell through the floor when she heard the choked sound leave Thranduil’s lips. She spun around to see Ares had him by the throat, an exquisite dagger waving at her in his other hand.

“…when I could do this?”

“No!”

Ares spun the dagger on his palm, gripped it, and plunged it into Thranduil’s chest, slicing through his breast plate like a warm knife through butter.


	8. Skyfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ari makes a last ditch attempt to save Thranduil's life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The angst is so strong in this one!
> 
> Sountrack: Skyfall by Adele from the Bond film of the same title.

“Thranduil!”

She felt her heart combust when he fell to his knees at Ares’ feet. As he reached to pull the blade from his chest, its hilt started to glow, and she immediately knew what it was.

“No! Do not touch it, you’ll die!”

Thranduil eyed the dagger lodged in his chest with fear and apprehension, and for a moment Ari thought of how much less painful it would have been just to let him do it, let him take it out. She couldn’t, she simply loved him too much. Whatever was about to happen, how ever difficult the path she had now chosen was, it was worth it as she realised she could never live in a world without him either.

“You despicable sack of shit! Is that what I think it is?”

“Oh, yes.”

“No…no!”

There it was again, that wicked chuckle that let her know she had fallen for her father’s trap yet again. Maybe he was right, and that foolish heart she had inherited from her mother was nothing more than a burden. Mother. How could he treat her the way he does? No, she would not be like her mother now. She would not play the victim in this sadistic game.

“You twisted son of a bitch! How could you?”

“Now that’s no way to talk about our Queen, Adrestia.”

“Do not call me that! This ends, now!”

Then she felt it. For the first time in centuries, her blood bubbled and her skin felt like it was aflame. The world shifted around her, her senses heightened, everything sharper, slower, brighter. Then came the pressure at her back, this was really happening. Hunching over, the leather covering her shoulders split, two spectacular wings bursting free.

“Well, now it’s a party!”

When she rose to look her father in the eye, she let out a roar of pure rage and charged at him with speed that she could only achieve in her godly form. Before she could reach him, something took her by the wings and flung her across the bridge to the edge of the forest. Recovering before she hit the ground, she landed effortlessly on her feet and turned to assess what had just happened.

“Ari, that was not me, I did not want to do that! Why did I do that?”

***

_Well, well, well, I’ll give it to her, she actually has taste. So much power… You truly are a man worthy of my daughter…_

Thranduil could hear Ares’ voice, but his lips were not moving. It was echoing around in his skull, taunting him, thick with darkness and ill intent. He turned to his wife who was regarding him with abject terror and heartbreak. Did he really just do that? He would never hurt Ari, not in a thousand lifetimes.

“It’s the dagger. It allows him to compel you to obey his every command. He is the only one who can remove it.”

His eyes fell to the glowing blade lodged in his heart; of course, he should be dead right now. This magic was keeping him alive. That harrowing laugh rang out all around him, deafening and paralysing.

_It really is a shame that she’s going to have to kill you._

“Then let her, I will never fight for filth like you.”

“Oh, isn’t that sweet? He thinks he has a choice.”

“There is always a choice.”

He reached once more for the glowing hilt. He would not let her be forced into hurting him, if he let himself die she would not have to face the guilt.

“Thranduil no!”

In the blink of an eye she was on him, pinning his hands either side of his head against the stone wall of the Greenwood. Her eyes glowed, and her skin was hot on his; too hot, like it was made of burning embers. The hurt expression on her face was tragic, but as if she had come to some great epiphany, it quickly turned to one of unyielding resoluteness. Opening the glossy black wings on her back to their full span, she leaned in and whispered in his year.

“I am sorry for what is about to happen, but it is the only way, and it will hurt. Do you trust me?”

“Always.”

***

This was not going to be easy, but she had a plan. It was going to be bloody, and messy, and incredibly underhanded, but it was the only way they would both come out of this alive. They had to fight each other. She was going to have to break him, beat him down and bring him to the precipice of death, and then just hope. Hope that he could hang in there a little longer while she dealt with her father. It was the biggest gamble of her life, but when she considered her other options, it was one she would have to take. Without warning, he kicked her square in the stomach, the sheer length of his leg pushing her back and away from him. His expression was so apologetic, and it almost made her reconsider, until the monster behind her spoke.

“Poor unfortunate soul. Looks like you’re going to have to kill him, child.”

“You think I won’t do it?”

“I think you can’t.”

“I’m sorry, my love, but you understand why I have to do this, don’t you?”

“Of course.”

Ares forced Thranduil to draw his weapons but she knew that with her speed it would not do him any good. Heart heavy, she rushed him, feet and fists flying and wings blocking in a black and silver blur. It was over within minutes. He never stood a chance. Hot tears ran down her cheeks as she looked at him unconscious at her feet, bruised and broken, blood staining his silver blonde hair. Such a beating would have killed an ordinary man, but hopefully his body would be able to take the strain. The dagger in his chest stopped glowing and she knew she had to wrap this up quickly before its magic would wear off and he would surely die. She crouched down and planted a soft kiss on his lips before rising to face her father.

Ares began to clap slowly, and that demonic grin split is lips once more, perfect white teeth gleaming in the moonlight.

“Are you happy now?”

“Oh, very.”

“Are you going to kill me? That is why you came here isn’t it? Well, get on with it.”

“Originally yes, but this, you should see the sorrow in your eyes. This is a far greater punishment than I could have ever hoped for. Now, thank me for your life and my mercy.”

He held out his arms to her smugly, expecting her to hug him like a daughter should hug her father. This was her chance. She had been right all along.

“Thank you, father.”

Accepting his invitation, she tried to hide her shame as she entered his embrace, resting her head and palms on his chest. Then, with the very speed that his genetics had bequeathed her, she slipped her hand inside his vest, withdrew a small knife, and drove it up through his jaw and into his brain. His eyes fell to meet hers in pure shock, and she felt the cracks run through her heart with the gravity of her actions. Tears welled in her eyes, and she almost regretted everything.

“They don’t call me inescapable for nothing. You didn’t leave me any other choice you arrogant bastard. I’m so sorry…”

She sunk to the ground cradling him in her arms and began to sob. His eyes went a cloudy white, his hair and beard greyed, and his skin sagged to that of a man his true age. She had not been the only one who’s weakness was laid bare on the battlefield today. Ares truly had loved his daughter, but more dangerously than that, he had trusted her. Ariadne felt rotten to her core for exploiting his faith, but he had forced her hand.

“I’m so sorry…I love you, Papa…I’m so sorry…”

Shortly after he turned to dust in her lap. A strange sensation came over her and a throbbing pain started in her temples. The feathers on her wings started to drop to the ground, translucent grey leather taking their place. Reaching up, she felt the hard nubs of horns growing at the edge of her hairline and she knew the old legends had truth. As the one who took his life, she would have to take his place as punishment. She had never been so simultaneously relieved and terrified in her life.

Testing out her new abilities, she flashed to Thranduil’s side and swiftly but cautiously removed the dagger from his chest, heart pounding and full of hope. He remained unmoving.

“Come on, Thranduil. Come on, please…please come back to me…”

At that moment she heard the sound of hooves racing down the forest path, and with them Lord Elrond and Lady Galadriel. Elrond dismounted before his horse had even stopped moving, and dashed to their side.

“My child…what happened?”

“I…my father happened…I had to…it was the only way. Please, you have to help him!”

Removing the breast plate and placing an ear to Thranduil’s chest, the dark haired elf looked up at her with concern, and then past her to Galadriel who had made her way over to them. Lips pursed, he nodded to the golden haired she-elf curtly and closed his eyes.


	9. Bridge Over Troubled Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil isn't out of the woods yet, and lays recovering in Mirkwood while his people wait with baited breath to see if he will ever wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you all enjoyed this little adventure, and a huge thank you to the anon who actually sent in the original set of prompts! This is the final chapter and there's a little bit of terrible humour in the end of it to make up for all the angst and the pain.
> 
> Soundtrack: Bridge Over Troubled Water by John Legend

_Come back to me. Please come back to me…_

She held his hand and waited, as she had done for the last six weeks. The others came and went, but she stayed. She slept there, she ate there, she spent every waking moment there. Day in and day out nothing changed. Legolas had even returned home upon hearing of Thranduil’s condition, and old friends had come to visit from far and wide, all waiting in the halls of the Greenwood for the elven king to wake. If he was going to wake. They all reacted much the same, with advice, condolences, messages of hope. All except Legolas.

“This is your fault! You brought this on us all! I would have you executed if I could!”

The worst part about it had been that she could not accuse him of a false accusation. It was her fault. Had she been honest, had she just been more observant, this all could have been avoided. They could have prevented her father form invading her dreams and finding her. None of this would have happened. Then there was of course the devastating fact that she was directly responsible for Thranduil’s current state. The superficial cuts and bruises were healed, but some of the more catastrophic damage had been done to his soft tissue and organs and that would take time. Lady Galadriel’s magic had been able to stop the internal bleeding, but his body was taking much longer to heal than was normal for an elf, so she was keeping him in a constant slumber to save him from the pain.

“You must be patient child. All in good time. The spell will lift when he is ready.”

Patience was never a virtue that Ari had been blessed with. She just wanted to know that he  _was_  going to wake up, that he would look at her and say something sassy and borderline insulting, then they would laugh, and she would kiss him, and the world would be right again. Her old nightmares had been replaced with new ones, and sometimes she would wake screaming, but with nobody to hold her. After several nights of this, Elrond had come to her aid. He was wise, and kind, and they had become quite close over the weeks. Ari had always had a soft spot for the Lord of Rivendell, and she was glad to see her platonic affections for him had not been misplaced. Just as she thought of him, he appeared in the doorway, two glasses of wine and an expression of mock surprise on his face.

“I do not think staring at him and just wishing really hard is going to make him wake any sooner, Ariadne.”

“You never know. It might.”

He looked at her with skepticism and a raised eyebrow, and handing her a glass, he made his way to the carved stone balcony that overlooked the great inner cavern. Lifting Thranduil’s hand, Ari kissed it lightly before placing it gently by his side, and joined Elrond.

“Has Lady Galadriel said anything more to you? Surely it must be nearly time.”

“She has said nothing more to me than she has to you. Only that you really did give him quite the beating.”

Ari knocked back the contents of her glass and lent forward to rest her elbows on the stone railing.

“You do not need to remind me.”

“Ariadne, you did what you had to do. Thranduil would have done the same thing in your position. You did what needed to be done to save Middle Earth.”

“I practically killed him, Elrond. On purpose.”

“If you had not then he would have surely died anyway.”

“So you’re saying I had nothing left to lose?”

Elrond tilted his head and shrugged at her, then joined her in leaning to look out over the kingdom.

“What I am saying, my dear, is that you did the right thing, and sometimes the right thing is not necessarily the easy thing.”

“Try telling that to Legolas.”

“Legolas is hurting too. You must not take to heart the things he says out of fear, and believe me he is afraid. In times like these, we all look for someone to blame.”

“Yes, well, we all know who’s to blame here.”

“Is clairvoyance among that array of abilities you possess in your true form?”

“No…”

“Then stop blaming yourself! We all make mistakes. You could have never predicted yours would lead to this. Just make sure you learn from them.”

He was right. There was no way she could have known Ares would be able to find her, much less that this would be the end result. Elrond placed a hand on her shoulder and gave her a reassuring nod before grabbing her glass and taking his leave.

“Now, rest. You look like you haven’t slept in a century.”

“I can’t make any promises, but I will try.”

She watched him leave and then resumed her vigil by Thranduil’s side. He looked so peaceful in his slumber, almost innocent. Peeking inside his shirt, she quickly examined the spot where the dagger had been lodged in his chest. Fortunately, since killing her father had awarded her his power and title, she had been able to remove it and activate the healing magic, so now all that remained was a grizzly pink scar. Tracing her fingers over it, she let the tears come freely when they brewed.

“You had better wake up you stubborn arse. Don’t you dare leave me here alone. I need you…I don’t want to live without you…please…wake up.”

Laying her head down on his shoulder, she soon found the siren call of sleep too much to resist, and drifted off into another night of haunting dreams.

***

Pain. The dull ache of it radiated over his entire body and his joints felt stiff, as though he had been sleeping for a century. Slowly he opened his eyes, and after they adjusted to the flood of light, he peered down to see a mop of curly black hair strewn across his chest. He breathed a sigh of relief and gingerly lifted his arm to stroke Ari’s head. The ache persisted, but it was nothing he could not push through. They were alive. She had done it, just like he knew she could. She began to stir slowly and looked up at him dazed and confused.

“You are the most beautiful mess I’ve ever seen.”

Slender, strong arms flung themselves around his shoulders and she squealed with excitement.

“You’re awake! You’re really awake! Tell me this is real, please, please be real!”

Hands began poking and prodding him and he winced in pain several times before she actually noticed and stopped her enthusiastic quasi checkup.

“Well the pain certainly feels real…”

“Oh, shit! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I just…”

Putting his aches to the back of his mind with a soft chuckle, he reached up and slipping a hand through her hair to the back of her neck, pulled her down into a quick and tender kiss.

“I thought I was going to lose you.”

“A, now hold on what was it, ‘stubborn arse’ like me? Never.”

“So you heard that…”

“I heard everything.”

“Oh…”

Her face fell and she began to fiddle with her jewelry and wring her hands like she always did when she was nervous.  He had heard every word of it, however long it had been. Conversations with Galadriel, Elrond, everyone from Bagend to Erebor, and what he could only assume was a fight with Legolas.

“Ari, look at me.”

Golden eyes peered at him sheepishly, and he could tell that she was on the verge of tears.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. I followed you into that fight fully prepared to die. When you told me that it would hurt, I trusted you and I accepted it. I would lay my life down for you a thousand times over, and nobody can make that choice or be held responsible for it except me.”

“Thranduil, I…”

“No. Enough. There is nobody I’d rather be nearly beaten to death by.”

Try as she might, she was unable to stifle the giggle bursting to escape her lips, and he grinned at her fondly. He meant every word of it. Not in millennia had he trusted another being so completely, nor loved anyone so well. She shook her head at him and bent down to kiss him, holding his chin in her hand. When she rose, he let his eyes wander to the labyrinth of complex tattoos that now wound their way from her shoulders to her wrists. Clearly having caught him looking, she withdrew and rubbed them shamefully.

“They are…different.”

“Yes.”

“Are you going to tell me why?”

He could see her heart breaking when he asked, and though it pained him greatly, he forced himself to sit up and pull her into his arms protectively.

“I had to do it. He did not give me a choice.”

“You had to kill him.”

“My own father. He was a monster, he was evil…but he was still my father…even through the hate I still loved him.”

How soul destroying a feeling that must be for her, to have to put her own father down like a mad beast, to cast aside that love and do what needed to be done for the greater good. That kind of sacrifice took strength, a kind rare and wonderful in any world. While it was that strength that made him love her even more than he could have ever fathomed, never again would he let her need to make use of it.

“Then when I thought…I thought I was too late, I thought I didn’t get to you in time…I really thought I had killed the only two men I have ever loved…all in the one day.”

“What do you mean?”

“When a god dies, their mantle and their power passes on to their killer. It is intended as a punishment in most instances…this one certainly. Only the god of war can remove that dagger and lift its curse.“

“Are you telling me my wife is now the goddess of war?”

“And revolt, retribution, and the divine balance between good and evil still.”

“Well, for what it is worth, I think - all things considered - the world could not ask for a better war goddess. At least you have a moral compass, that is certainly not something your father could have ever boasted. And…if I am being absolutely honest…I really, really love these new markings…”

He raised her hand and dragged his lips along the new ink in her skin. She sighed and smiled over her shoulder at him, then placing a hand on his cheek, drew him down into a soft kiss.

“Smooth talker, you. I really should go and fetch Lady Galadriel, she will want to know you are awake.”

“No need, my child.”

“Yes, your shrieking was loud enough to alert the entire kingdom.”

Elrond and Galadriel stood in the doorway to his chamber, kind smiles on their faces. Galadriel approached and checked him over quickly with a wave of her hand.

“It looks like you are indeed going to live, my lord.”

“Much to the collective disdain of dwarves everywhere I am sure.”

They all shared a hearty laugh at Elrond’s all too accurate joke, and the lord took his leave once more. Once she was sure he had left, Galadriel approached them with a suspicious grin on her perfect lips.

“Now that you are awake, Lord Thranduil, there is something I need to tell both of you.”

He shot Ari an apprehensive glance as the Lady of Lothlorien took both of their hands in hers and beamed.

“Ariadne, when I examined you after the battle, I discovered something rather interesting.”

“Oh? Oh, it was probably just my new abilities assimilating into my-”

“No, it was not that, not unless of course you have suddenly developed a heart that beats in triplicate….”

Immediately Thranduil understood what she was saying, and he watched Ari’s face become a battlefield of its own as she realized as well; joy, fear, and disbelief, all fought for dominance. Disbelief emerged victorious.

“Is that why you have been forcing me to drink that vile concoction of yours every morning?”

“Yes.”

Fear clearly came in second, and she was horrified when she turned to him, all the possibilities of what could go wrong clearly racing through her mind.

“Oh…oh no, what if it has wings? Or horns! What if it’s evil? Or a dragon…or…

“They.”

“Yeah, okay, what if they’re ev- wait what?”

“They.”

“What do you mean  _they_?”

“I think what she means, amaelamin, is the plural they.”

“There’s more than one?”

Thranduil could not keep the smile from his face as he watched all the colour drain from Ari’s.

“Is that all, my lady?”

“Yes. I will leave you to discuss at will. Farewell.”

Ariadne remained speechless, gawking at her stomach as Galadriel took her leave with a bounce in her step and a song on her lips.

“How, how is this possible?”

“Do I really need to explain conception to you? Because you know I would much rather show you…”

“I know  _how_! I just…didn’t think it was possible.”

“Well, apparently it is.”

“What if I turn into my father…”

“I highly doubt that is possible.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger, he forced her to look him in the eye.

“For one, I know you, you could never be like him if you tried. And because if you were going to be like him you would have let me die.”

“I could never let you die, I would rather serve an eternity in Tartarus at the hands of Hades himself.”

“Exactly.”

She relaxed back into his arms, carefully laying beside him so as not to put any unnecessary pressure on his still healing body. He could understand her fear, and he too had fears of his own. He thought of Legolas, and all the ways he had failed him. What if he failed these children too? What if he could not be better, if he just was not cut out to be the doting loving father? At that moment just as he too was starting to panic, a curtain of sunlight blonde hair appeared around the corner of the doorway, and for the first time ever he heard the Lady Galadriel’s laugh.

“Just kidding!”

She was gone as soon as she appeared and the pair breathed the biggest collective sigh of relief in the history of Middle Earth.

“Did we just get pranked by…Lady Galadriel?”

“ You know, I think we did.”

“How much are you willing to wager that Legolas had something to do with it?”

“I said I would die for you, not that I was an idiot.”

The laughter sent sharp pains through his chest but he could not control it, and though all was right in the world once more, he could not ignore the tiny pang of disappointment at the loss of what might have been.

“Would it really be so bad?”

“What?”

“A child?”

“…I suppose not.”


End file.
